Forget me not
by gundam06serenity
Summary: Forget-me-not; sometimes, it can be so hard-too hard, to forget those that we once loved, and move on. Yaoi, Slash, Het, Post-EW. Valentines day fic romance, angst, hurt/comfort


Forget-Me-Not

Forget-me-not; sometimes, it can be so hard-too hard, to forget those that we once loved, and move on. Yaoi, Het, Post-EW. Valentines day fic (romance, angst, hurt/comfort)

Rating: pg13 (to be safe; possibly pg)

Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, others – surprises; you'll read as you continue

Genre: Romance, angst

Spoilers: set after Endless Waltz (Preventors)

Authors' notes: This fic's been bouncing around in my head for some time now in various forms, featuring just about every pilot as the main character. I've played around with this fic mentally in so many forms, altering parts, adding other bits in, trying it from first and third person point of view. Originally, I aimed for this to be a one-shot for Valentines Day. However, now I think I'll aim to try and get it completed in February instead, over several chapters. Please, please let me know what you think; both of the story, and of what's happening plot-wise. I have a few alternate endings in mind; I may post just one, I may post a few for you to choose which to read, I may be really mean and make you wait a year to find out ;) review to stop that last option, ne?

Chapter One – Long Stemmed Red & White Roses

Long stemmed rose; I will remember you always

Red rose; I love you

White rose; Innocence, purity

Red & White Roses; Unity

February 1st 14:08

Hard onyx eyes flitted across the minuet, messy scrawl with practiced ease, but no little pain. Scarred, calloused caramel fingers reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, palm pressing firmly to his forehead. He could already feel a migraine setting in.

He glanced over at his already overflowing inbox. Stacks of papers had started creeping out early that morning, many, now, lying fallen on the floor, having landed on the carpeted ground of his minuet, cramped office. A small, weary sigh escaped his lips.

Snick.

Alert eyes darted to the door as it clicked open, one neatly kept eyebrow already raised in question. Questioning quickly morphed into a familiar scowl, as he caught sight of one of the newer recruits, still wet behind the ears, peering into his office. A new stack of paperwork was clutched in one now trembling hand.

He did, however, prove to be braver than the previous Preventor foolish enough to set foot into his office that morning. Had it not been for the continuous throbbing just behind his eyes, he would have smirked at the memory of the young man foolish enough to leave a new, messy stack of folders and coffee stained papers on his chair during a brief moment outside of his office to visit the restrooms. The look on his face when he had tracked him down…

The new folder-wielding man took a step forward, hands tightening their hold on the folders.

Slender fingers clenched harder on the cheep black biro he held carefully between the calloused digits. The plastic groaned. His scowl deepened. An audible cracking resounded through the room, as plastic splintered.

"I'll, just, um, just, ah, be, um-" He stammered.

The pen snapped loudly in two.

The poor man let out a terrified yelp, as he quickly backed away into the safety of the hallway, as far away from the irate Chinese man as possible.

A small, satisfied smirk painted his lips. He still had it. Desk work hadn't ruined him yet.

Unlike his comrades-ex-comrades, he kept having to remind himself, he hadn't been given the chance to go into active duty when he had first sighed up.

It had irritated him so much at first, made him so angry; angry that he hadn't been given the same chance to improve himself as the others, that he wasn't as trusted as they were, that he could no longer see himself as their…equal, now that he had been relegated to the levels of paper pusher. Not even trusted enough to watch over trainees.

Of course they had made promises, had lied to him after the eves war incident. It had only been a mistake, they had said, everyone was entitled to messing up once in a while. His misguided sense of justice, of honour, of pride, had led him to following the daughter of the man he had grown to respect, the man who he had made it his goal to defeat, although, not in quite such a way, before the war was through.

When he had been offered the job by Sally, he had thought-…that perhaps, he could still make a difference, could still redeem himself, make up for his sins. When pilot after pilot had soon after followed, joining the Preventors, however, it soon became clear. He had thought that he was merely off of active duty until they had sorted out the politics of it all; after all, who would allow them-still children, still underage, despite their actions, despite their sacrifices, into such an important organisation, supplying them with weapons and a licence to use them no less.

He had thought that it would all be sorted out; after all, there was no way that Yuy would allow a simple thing such as age to get in the way of the mission, to stop him from maintaining his peace. And Maxwell-it would be safer for all involved to keep him as far away from the stationary cupboard, and the break room, as possible. His pranks were still legendary amongst those from both sides of the war, now working within the agency.

But no. It was just him.

He hadn't even heard it from them himself; office gossip had proven to be the only truly reliable source of information…

One small-fingered, pale caramel hand reached up to rub the bridge of his nose, small, wire-rimmed spectacles slipping down as he did so. His other hand reached out blindly, wrapping gently but firmly around a cracked, ceramic mug. A small black and green, grinning cartoon dragon, eyes crossed, tongue sticking out, gazed cheekily out from beneath a creamy glaze. A gift from a certain braided comrade-ex-comrade. It had been somewhat of a joke, given to him as a 'congratulations on the new job' gift. He hadn't been expected to ever use it.

He hadn't stopped since. The first give he had received since the death of his colony, since before her death…

Cold, bitter green tea sloshed sharply over the rim, spilling out onto tan trousers and a snowy shirt, spreading, bleeding fast through the fabric.

He let out a curse, putting the mug down gently even as he stood up jerkily, other hand coming down to inspect the damage.

Removing the small, golden frames, he placed them down on his desk, making his way out of the door once more.

"Perfect…absolutely, fucking wonderful…" He muttered, as he stormed past other, much larger, sunlit offices. Even the cubicles seemed larger, more open, friendlier, simply nicer, than he had become accustomed to.

He made his way with little trouble to the men's room.

Fifteen minutes later, he gave up both shirt and trousers as a lost cause.

As he left the men's room, turning out into the corridor, he passed by the front desk for their floor. The large, rounded secretaries' desk was, as always, manned by three middle-aged, motherly but by-gods-could-they-talk secretaries. Unusually, however, stood the person before them.

A simple delivery man.

Enough to make him freeze.

The world around him seemed to slow, as he honed in on the package being handed over by the young man, exchanged for the clipboard in the ladies hand.

He didn't hear a word of the gushing or cooing over the 'beautiful, aren't they?', 'Aww, so romantic!', nor 'At this time of year? They must have cost a fortune!'.

Eight words did, however, penetrate his mind.

'He's a keeper, that man of yours is.'

Two dozen long-stemmed, fully blooming roses. Twelve red, twelve white.

For Chang Wufei, time, for a moment, stood still. Memories bombarded him, flashes of his past, so many, so quickly, overpowered him.

'Oooh, look! He even had the thorns removed. Aww, he really did think of everything, didn't he?'

Were the words to snap him back to reality.

He had to force himself to turn away. Even, steady strides took him back to his office in no time. Closing the door with a resounding bang, he paced the tiny room. Agitation trembled through each and every fibre of his being, his confusion, his need to do….something, echoing it clearly.

Plump cherubim lips pressed firmly together, his decision made. Within minutes he had collected him personal effects from within his office and locker, filling barely a duffle bag with the amount of items he kept with him at work.

Before the hour was up, he had handed in his notice to Une's secretary, the head of the Preventors herself 'Too busy at this time to deal with any minor incidents.'

Before schools had let out, he had arrived at a local airport.

Before the crowds of office workers and paper pushers had streamed onto the streets, he had bought his ticket, boarded a plane.

Before nightfall, one person, at least, had noticed he was missing.

Before the day had been consumed by night, the roses had already began their slow death, petals starting to wilt, to loose their beauty, to loose the adoration and admiration of their owners, to fade away.

To be continued


End file.
